A Tale of Ice and Fire
by Fonique2
Summary: If Lyanna Stark only knew that the entire realm was calling it an abduction, she would have set them all straight. She would have told them a tale of a trapped girl and a man who came along and loved her for her. For the pretty face and the wolf fangs.
1. The She-Wolf

A Tale of Ice and Fire

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to George R.R. Martin**

01\. The She-Wolf

Eddard Stark had been searching most of the morning. He had been to every room in the castle, he had searched the training yard, and he had visited the stable to see if a certain horse was missing, But around midday is when he finally located his sister in the godswood, kneeling before the weirwood tree.

"I should have checked here first," Ned said by way of greeting, walking forward to stand beside Lyanna.

"Don't tell me I give people the impression that I'm an overly religious fool," Lyanna replied.

"No, just a slightly religious one."

Lyanna finally glanced up to her brother, a smile slipping onto her face. The sun was shining through the normally gray skies of the north today, hitting Lyanna'a face in such a way that she appeared older than her age of one and two. Or maybe it was due to the news that had been announced today.

"I thought maybe I'd find you here, praying to the gods for patience," Ned quipped.

"Oh Ned, I don't think the gods can help me," Lyanna replied with a weak chuckle. Ned was unsure whether or not she was joking.

"Lyanna..."

"I'm fine Ned," Lyanna assured, rising to her feet. She was shorter than Ned, but he knew how quick she was, and strong when provoked enough. "This didn't come as a surprise."

Ned nodded. "Robert has loved you for some time."

Lyanna rolled her silver-shaded eyes.

"He does-"

Lyanna cut Ned off. "Robert loves me in his definition of what love means. And we all know what _that_ looks like."

Ned was very aware of what Lyanna was referring to. Despite the fact that Robert was not much older than Lyanna, he had already fathered a bastard in the Vale. Robert was tall, handsome and strong, and he knew it, frequently using it to his advantage with the young ladies.

"That was before the betrothal," Ned tried. It was not so much in defense of his long-time friend, but in hopes of comforting Lyanna. She seemed to be taking her betrothal to Robert Baratheon well enough, but Ned knew some of her opinions of Robbert were less than positive.

Lyanna smirked at Ned. "Marriage does not change men, Ned."

Ned didn't have a response. He had known Robert for many years now, having grown up together, and he knew Lyanna might be correct. Although Ned was holding out hope that his friend could be bettered. With his father's passing, he was a lord now and he was hoping that settling down with a bride and ruling would help Robert mature.

When Ned remained silent, Lyanna continued. She seemed to be musing to herself, rather than addressing Ned. "I don't think he really loves _me_. I think he more loves the idea of me."

"Do you think you'll ever grow to love him?" Ned finally asked.

Lyanna sighed with endearment. "Oh Ned...women don't marry for love."

Once again, Ned had no comment. Lyanna nodded to herself, seemingly agreeing with something she was silently thinking and smoothed down the gray, woolen dress she was wearing.

"I think I'll go for a ride; it's such a beautiful day. Would you like to join me?" Lyanna asked, slipping her arm through her brother and steering him away from the godswood.

"I can't," Ned replied regrettably. "I have a meeting Father wants me to attend."

Lyanna shrugged, smiling over to Ned. "Your loss."

When they reached the center of Winterfell, Lyanna released Ned. He made his way up to the castle and Lyanna made her way to the stables.

"Ah, Lady Lyanna," the stable master greeted as she approached. He was outside, enjoying the sun as he brushed down one of the horses. "Are you here for your horse?"

Lyanna nodded with a smile. "I thought I'd take advantage of this beautiful day and go for a ride.

"Let me get her ready for you," the stable master said quickly, setting down his brush and moving to get Lyanna's horse saddled.

"Oh, no need," Lyanna quickly replied. "I can get her ready."

Before, the stable master would have protested, but he knew Lyanna better these days and only smiled, nodding.

Lyanna opened the gate to her horse's stall. It wasn't really _her_ horse, but it was the horse she favored and always chose to take on rides. The horse had taken a liking to her as well. She was a beautiful horse, with a cream-colored coat and soft brown mane. She had a single white splotch on her back.

"Hi there," Lyanna cooed as she approached the horse. It whinnied and stomped its hooves in anticipation of the ride.

Lyanna quickly set to work readying the horse. Being a lady of a great house, there wasn't much Lyanna had to do for herself. She didn't have to cook, draw her own bath or even dress herself. And she most certainly didn'T have to saddle her own horse. But Lyanna liked to do things on her own. She was perfectly able, so why have someone do it for her?

Once Lyanna finished, she swung herself up on her horse with ease. She'd been riding horses since she was a little girl and could outride most anyone. Her family made jokes about Lyanna's skills, although secretly she was sure it bothered her father. A she rode out of the gates of Winterfell and into the forest surrounding it, her thoughts drifted to her father.

Rickard Stark was an honorable man. He was a dutiful warden of the north and was training his sons to one day be the same. Lyanna's eldest brother Brandon was next in line to become warden, but Rickard thought all of his sons should know the ability to rule. She wondered if all lords did this, or if it was driven by her father's paranoia of King Aerys Targaryen. As a lady, Lyanna wasn't thoroughly educated on all of the troubles of Westeros, but she had gathered enough that there was some unease over the king of Westeros. Some believed he was slowly going mad. She wondered if her father thought this could cause a war; Lyanna was skeptical herself. Even if the current King was going mad, Prince Rhaegar was next to rule the Iron Throne and, although she had never even seen the Prince, she had heard stories that he was as kind as he was beautiful.

But none of that mattered to Lyanna. As in, it wasn't supposed to matter to Lyanna. She was a lady. She was meant to learn sewing and how to host events. She was expected to marry and be a proper wife. And she was doing that, or she would be soon.

Lyanna accepted her lot in life. Sewing was mind numbing, but it was expected of her. Sipping tea and gossiping was equally boring, but it was expected of her. And Lyanna was expected to marry a lord and bear his children. And Lyanna would do all of that, because it was her duty, it was her place. But that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to dream.

Lyanna didn't mind to wear pretty dresses, but she also liked to slip into a pair of breeches to go riding or to defend herself in the training yard. Lyanna liked to practice with the wooden swords they had there, and every so often, when she was alone, Lyanna would try her hand with real, steel swords. She thought she was quite good. At the very least she could hold her own. She imagined she'd be quite talented if her father would let her train.

As much as Lyanna adored her father, he was quite traditional. While he begrudgingly allowed Lyanna to occasionally join her brothers in the training yard, he'd never let Lyanna carry a sword of her own. So sometimes, when the training yard was deserted and the sun was beginning to set, Lyanna would sneak out to the training yard and practice, and pretend. Pretend that she could spar along side of her brothers. She'd pretend that Winterfell's gates were being overrun with enemies and she could slash them down; defend herself and her home.

But it was a a silly dream. In all fairness, Lyanna should be grateful she'd ever been allowed to hold a sword. But Lyanna was a wolf. She liked to race her horse and feel the cool wind blow through her long, brown hair. She liked the sound of metal striking metal and the rush of adrenalin when you struck towards an opponent or stepped out of the way of a very well placed stab. She didn't mind dirt on her hands or face or bruises on her arms or knuckles.

If Lyanna was to do her duty and marry, Lyanna wanted to marry a man who loved her for her pretty dresses, and her breaches. She wanted to be loved for her fierceness, and her sweet words. She wanted someone to love _all_ of her; not just her face and her body.

But Lyanna was not a fool. There were not many highborn men out there who would appreciate any type of fierceness in a woman. And Robert Baratheon was certainly no exception. She doubted her would ever accept her holding a sword or speaking her opinion. But that meant she'd have to be strong in other ways. She wouldn't be able to be strong with a sword, but she could be strong by pushing away who she was in order to do her duty. Of course, the problem with that was Lyanna didn't know if she could be _that_ strong.

She would have time to practice though. It was likely that Robert and her wouldn't marry soon. But Robert would be visiting Winterfell within the coming months, or so her father told her. She knew her brother would be happy to see him.

Lyanna sighed, steering her horse off of the worn, dirt path and into the deeper regions of the forest. She wished there was someone out there who would love her for her, aside from her brothers. A person who would hold her close at night and let her argue her opinions with him during the day. But wishes were for girls. Lyanna was not a girl. She was a wolf.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 **I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to post this. It's just something I'm working on in my spare time. But I posted it anyway. I've never worked with RheagarXLyanna so I do hope this doesn't disappoint.**

 **There are a lot of theories that circulate around the whole Rheagar/Lyanna business. This story is my idea of what happened. If you'll check online, you'll find that a lot of things I theorized, so have a lot of people.**

 **As far as Rheagar's and Lyanna's personalities go, I only have the vague mentions of them in the books to work with. Ned Stark always compares Arya to Lyanna so I will be adapting a lot of that to my Lyanna. Except I tend to think that Lyanna would feel more duty bound than Arya and not running away from being a lady, but embracing it and trying to be her own type of woman. Gosh I hope that sounded sane. Trying to write while listening to a baby cry is a little distracting.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading! Please, please tell me what you think! This is obviously just the opening so nothing real exciting has taken place. This is just to show you where we are at in the timeline and show you a little of Lyanna's personality and thoughts. We'll get into the more exciting stuff, trust me!**


	2. The Feast

A Tale of Ice and Fire

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to George R.R. Martin**

02\. The Feast

Hosting visitors was always a grand affair for the Starks. With Winterfell being located so far north, even during the summer the weather was much chillier than most residents of Westeros were used to, especially if they were from the south. Because of this, Winterfell rarely had any visitors or feasts with others who were not also from the north. The excitement of their impending visitors was the reason the Starks were gathered in the Winterfell courtyard.

It had only been a moon past since Lyanna had learned of her engagement to Robert Baratheon. Their future marriage was the reason for Robert's visit. Ned was the most excited of the Starks, as he had grown up with Robert as Lord Arryn's ward. The other Starks were mostly excited for the feast the would happen tonight. It would be a grand affair with the best food the cooks could create and minstrels who would entertain the drunken guests.

Lyanna was, at best, indifferent to the arrival of her intended. She wasn't dreading spending time with Robert, although she wasn't sure what quantity of time was considered 'proper'. Robert was always gentlemanly to her, in his own way. Although she doubted he would care about some of things she enjoyed to talk about. Contrary wise, she wasn't excited either. She wasn't excited about their impending marriage. It just was. So as the gates opened an horses began to enter into the courtyard, Lyanna only watched on.

It was Ned who stepped forward as the lead horse came to a stop and it's rider dismounted. He was tall, very tall, with jet black hair. His shoulders were wide and there were obvious muscles stretching against the fabric of his shirt.

"Ned!" Robert grinned, meeting Ned. They clasped hands in a hearty shake before pulling each other into a manly hug, which was a normal hug that ended with hard slaps on the back.

Detaching himself from Ned, Robert turned his attention to Lyanna, approaching her. Lyanna allowed Robert to take her hand and plant a gentle kiss on it. As he did so, Robert glanced up, catching Lyanna's eyes. He had beautiful eyes, Lyanna thought. They were a deep blue that reminded her of sapphires.

"Lady Lyanna," Robert greeted with a formality Lyanna knew he was only using because they were in the presence of her family. "I need to stretch my legs a bit; would you graciously accompany me to the weirwood?"

Lyanna immediately grew uncomfortable, although she tried to hide it. Ladies weren't supposed to reveal their true feelings. Although Lyanna had never been very good at that particular skill if the scoldings of her septa had taught her anything.

Lyanna had been in the company of Robert plenty of times. She had eaten with him, sparred with him, and even splashed around in the pond with him and her brothers (also to her septa's disapproval). But this felt different. They were betrothed now and Lyanna couldn't help but wonder if this was to be an intimate stroll to Robert. She wasn't sure what to expect, especially in light of the knowledge that Robert seemed to have no qualms about fathering bastards.

As though sensing Lyanna's unease, Ned stepped forward. "There will be plenty of time for that, Robert. You've had a long journey, and frankly, you stink. I think it would be in everyone's best interest if you bathed. The feast isn't far off anyway."

Robert switched his gaze from Lyanna's gray eyes, to Ned's. There was a moment of pause, where Lyanna felt a strange sense of anxiety, before Robert let out a booming laugh. "Have it your way, Stark. I expect my accommodations will be to my liking."

Ned offered a smile,slapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Only the best for the lord of Storm's End."

Ned led Robert up to the castle, the rest of the Starks following as the stable hands rushed to tend to the tired horses. Lyanna trailed behind the rest of her family.

She hadn't been sure what to expect of Robert's visit. But now she was sure Robert would try to spend as much of his stay in Lyanna's company as possible. Maybe that was a good thing. She could see who Robert was, bare of his armor and the roughness men usually displayed among members of the same sex. Time would tell.

* * *

Not much later after Robert's arrival, Lyanna found herself in her chambers, accompanied by a handmaid. She had been bathed and her hair thoroughly combed. Normally, northern women wore simple dresses of simple color. They were often made of warmer material due to the chill of the north. But tonight Lyanna's lord father would announce her betrothal and Lyanna was expected to look her finest. Therefore, Lyanna;s handmaid was helping her don an extravagant gown that was more silver than gray. Her hair hung loose, down past her shoulders aside from some locks pulled away from her face and braided around her head.

"He sure is handsome," the handmaid commented, busy lacing up the back of the dress.

"He is," Lyanna admitted. If she was not like most girls, she knew she'd be swooning over his square jaw and broad shoulders. But to Lyanna, the character of an individual was far more important than their appearance.

Lyanna supposed this trait had been bred into her as a child. If nothing else, the Starks were honorable and loyal. They preferred trusted friendships over deals made with gamy individuals with promises to raise their house to power. But there was more to it than that.

Even when she was a young child, Lyanna was constantly told she was beautiful. And the older she became, the more she was told she might be the most beautiful lady in all of Westeros. In all honesty, Lyanna was sick of hearing it. While she appreciated the compliments from men and women alike, Lyanna wanted to be more than just a pretty face. She wanted to be revered for the fire and determination in her eyes rather than their enchanting color of stunning silver. She didn't want people to comment on the curves of her body, but of the quickness and fluid way she could ride a horse and run and dodge a sword. She didn't want to be a prized doll for lords to look at, she wanted to be a fierce warrior. One would could command a throne room in a pretty gown and who could defend her opinions in a duel.

But she was not born as Brandon, or Eddard, or Benjen. She was born as Lyanna. She was born with expectations of what a highborn lady should be. And she would have to follow those expectations until she could find a way to be the woman she wanted to be.

* * *

The feast that evening was a rather grand affair. It was loud, between the music being played and the hall filled with man laughing and talking, which only escalated in noise as the ale poured. The meal consisted of five courses, which Lyanna could only partially eat so that she would have enough room for the next course.

The Starks all sat at the head table, as per usual. Her father sat in the middle. To his right sat Brandon and Benjen. To his left sat Robert, Lyanna and Ned. They were on their last course, the dessert and Lord Rickard had yet to make the announcement, which Lyanna was dreading. Not so much because it cemented her betrothal to Robert; she had accepted that. She just didn't want to endure all of the attention and how much louder the room would get.

"How are you enjoying the festivities?" Ned murmured over to Lyanna, who had just stuck her spoon into her pudding.

"I think we're going to need to restock our ale supply," Lyanna replied with a playful glance at her brother, who smiled back at her.

Then, all too soon, Lord Rickard tapped his fork against his metal goblet, attracting the attention of the hall. He got to his feet.

"I thank you all for coming to this joyous affair. We are here to celebrate the joining of two great houses! I am pleased to officially announce the betrothal of my daughter, Lyanna, to Lord Robert Baratheon of Storm's End!" Lord Rickard grinned down to his daughter and future son-in-law, raising his goblet in a toast.

The rest of the hall cheered, raising their goblets or mugs as well. Lord Rickard retook his seat and the attention was diverted once more as the guests that had finished their meal began to mingle among one another.

"It makes it all so real, doesn't it?" Robert turned to Lyanna.

Lyanna took a sip of wine before turning her attention to Robert. She knew he had downed quite a bit of alcohol, but his eyes were not glassy and he did not appear to be exhibiting any signs that he was drunk. Instead, he was staring at Lyanna softly, which took her by surprise. Maybe this was the man behind the tough facade that she had been hoping to find.

Quickly containing herself, Lyanna smiled back. "Yes, I supposed it does."

Robert held up his goblet. "A toast, to us. To a union I hope can be half as beautiful as you."

Lyanna raised her own goblet before they both took a sip. As they lowered their drinks, the two shared a smile. Perhaps, Lyanna thought, time _would_ tell her that Robert Baratheon was a man she could love.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 **I know this chapter is kind of short but I will be moving soon and wasn't sure if I'd get the chance to post this chapter if I made it longer. I apologize for the lack of Rhaegar and excitement in this chapter. Next chapter will also primarily focus on Robert and Lyanna. It's a bit of a slow starter but if I just wrote a story without Lyanna's back story, it'd be very short. Also, I feel like we need to understand the dynamics of their relationship to truly understand the depth of Lyanna's relationship with Rhaegar. But rest assured, the Targaryan will make an appearance soon.**

 **I'd also like to take a moment to explain why this story is rated M. First of all, it's ASoIaF, come on, how could it not be rated M? In the future, there will be violence, crude language and sexual themes. So there you go.**

 **As always, thank you for reading! Comments and suggestions are always welcome!**


	3. Becoming Someone Else

A Tale of Ice and Fire

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to George R.R. Martin**

03\. Becoming Someone Else

"You and Robert seem to be taking to each other well," Lord Rickard said.

It was early in the morning and the sun was just beginning to shine through the windows of the Lord of Winterfell's study. He had decided to take his breakfast there this morning and had insisted his only daughter join him.

Lyanna glanced up from her breakfast as her father spoke. It was more of a statement rather than a question and Lyanna wasn't sure how she should respond. She took a bite of sausage and took her time chewing as she contemplated what type of answer her father was looking for.

Rickard saved her from answering by speaking again. "Lyanna, you are my daughter and I want you to be happy. You may speak your mind."

Lyanna delicately set down her fork, offering her father a small smile. "Things are going well."

Rickard smiled, seeming pleased with his daughter's answer. "He's quite taken with you, I can tell. He has been for some time."

"So I've been told."

Rickard tilted his head, frowning in confusion. "Does it not seem that way to you?"

Lyanna couldn't bring herself to tell her father what she had confided in Ned. That Robert seemed to be more infatuated with her appearance. That he had bedded other women and she was unsure that he would stay only in her bed once they were married. But she knew her father wouldn't understand. And Robert had been lovely enough to her during his stay thus far. Aside from her concerns, she really had no complaints that would warrant her dread of being married to Robert. Maybe he would change, as Ned had suggested, and Lyanna felt she should give Robert the chance to prove it. Not that she had much say in the matter anyway.

So Lyanna gently shook her head and gave her father a practiced smile. "Oh it's probably just jitters. We're going riding today."

"Just the two of you?"

"Yes, Father, but don't worry; my honor will stay intact."

Lord Rickard's face flushed with embarrassment. There were some things fathers didn't want to speak about to their daughters. Although Lyanna's mother had passed not long ago, Rickard couldn't fill the roles that a mother should. Quickly, he switched the subject and Lyanna was all too happy to indulge him. The rest of their meal was pleasant and Robert free.

* * *

Robert and Lyanna met in the courtyard just before midday. The cool morning air had change to a gentle northern breeze and Lyanna felt almost warm under the cloak she was wearing. Although, she knew the wind would push harder upon her during riding and then she would be glad she brought a cloak. Lyanna had been riding horses for as long as she could remember and she knew all the tricks to make riding as enjoyable as possible. Although riding was always enjoyable and was probably Lyanna's favorite activity.

Robert greeted Lyanna with a gentle kiss upon her cheek and Lyanna rewarded him with a smile. Lyanna was pleased with the gentlemanly manner he was treating her with. It helped ease her worries over Robert's promiscuous ways.

"It's a lovely day for riding, don't you think?" Lyanna said to start conversation.

"A bit nippy," Robert replied.

"The north isn't that much colder than Storm's End," Lyanna smiled.

"Just cooler enough," Robert replied.

Lyanna moved to mount her horse, and was confused as Robert followed her. He stood behind her, grabbing her waist.

Lyanna jumped involuntarily at the touch and pivoted to look at Robert. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you up," Robert replied, looking confused at her reaction.

Lyanna's eyebrows knitted together. She was an excellent rider, better than most men, and Lyanna couldn't believe Robert didn't know that about her. Most everyone in the entire north knew about her talents. Familiar unease dropped into her stomach. Her concerns that Robert was just infatuated with her looks returned. Did he even know about her? She would have thought he had gathered enough information through all the years they'd known each other. Or at the very least she would have thought Ned would have brought her up in conversation throughout all the years he and Robert had been friends.

But in the ladylike fashion Lyanna had been taught her entire life, Lyanna smiled and gave Robert her softest voice. "Thank you, Robert, but I know my way on a horse very well."

To prove her point, Lyanna swung up on her horse with ease, which seemed to surprise Robert slightly. But then he grinned, moving to his own horse. Robert's reaction helped ease Lyanna slightly. At least he seemed pleased that Lyanna knew how to do what many ladies could not. That seemed like a good sign.

And so the pair exited through the gates onto the dirt path that led to Winterfell. As they rode, Robert began to regal her with stories of sparring matches he had won and the weapons he was proficient in handling. Lyanna nodded along, smiling when appropriate. It wasn't unpleasant conversation, although Lyanna couldn't help but feel put off by the way he was gloating. She thought a real warrior should be humble, although maybe this was what men did to try and impress a woman. But then again, Lyanna would have been more impressed if Robert had actually asked Lyanna any questions or let her speak. She had barely said a word as the sun began to rise higher in the sky, signaling that they had been out for near an hour.

Finally, when there was a slight lull in Robert's conversation, Lyanna took her opportunity to speak. Although a proper lady knows to ask about the man first, for whatever silly reason. "So, how are you liking being the lord of Storm's End?"

"I'm already bored with it," Robert replied. "There's a lot of meetings to attend and a lot of people to talk to. The especially dull conversations happen with the common folk, asking for this or that. Explaining their woes of a bad harvest or livestock that had been raided by this animal or another. But then I remember, I'm the lord, and I leave the counselors to deal with the boring aspects and I go out hunting."

As Robert began to ramble about all the beasts he had slain on his hunting trips, Lyanna frowned. In her experience, lords didn't act in that manner. They had duties to fulfill, which was the price of being blessed with the amenities that most people lacked. To her, Robert's actions just seemed childish and irresponsible, even more so that he seemed to be gloating about it. Was this the kind of man Robert really was? And if so, did Ned or her father know about this? She was always being told that how you treated others is what really showed the kind of person you were.

"So Lyanna," Robert suddenly said, breaking Lyanna from her thoughts. "How does life fair for you? Sewing and gossiping is what you ladies do best, right? You'll get plenty of that in Storm's End. That is, if I ever let you leave the marriage bed!"

Robert laughed, his loud booming laugh. But Lyanna knew he wasn't joking. _This_ was the man she was to be married to. Who spoke to her with disrespect that Robert thought was normal behavior. That all she was to him was a vessel for his pleasures and future heirs and a pretty trophy he could sit in a room with boring women with their boring gossip for the rest of her life.

And just like that, Lyanna felt trapped. Maybe this is how all ladies felt. Growing up, Lyanna was told stories of knights in shimmering armor. Tales of true love and happy endings. But it was a fairy tale. And deep down, Lyanna had always known that. But suddenly, it was reality. That marriage wasn't for love. It was for alliances. For the eyes of the world to see.

And Lyanna didn't speak a word for the remainder of their ride. She didn't speak about herself. She didn't bother to tell her intended that, while efficient at the task, Lyanna didn't even like sewing. If she was going to be pricked by metal, she would prefer it to be in a sparring match with swords, or daggers or anything. She didn't tell him her love of the smell of mud, whether it be from the ground kicked up by her horse, or in the training yard after dark where she could shoot an arrow at a target without being reprimanded.

An hour later, the two were back in the courtyard, dismounting their steeds. At least Robert didn't try to help her down from her horse.

"Well I promised Ned I'd give him a thrashing in the training yard. And I'm sure you have tea to attend to. Until dinner," Robert kissed Lyanna's hand in parting, and presumable went in search of her brother.

Lyanna continued to stand beside her horse. Her hand on its neck. Would she even be able to ride when she got married? Would she be able to speak? Would she even being able to remotely resemble who she was? Did it matter to think about it? Her fate was already sealed and she would simply have to do her best to accept who she must become. Not fierce Lyanna Stark of the north, but Lady Baratheon of Storm's End.

* * *

Much to Lyanna's annoyance, Robert had been right. She did have tea to attend to. Well, actually lunch. But it wasn't for petty gossip, and not with a bunch of simpering ladies. She was having lunch with her closest friend, and really the only girl she could make a connection to. Alys, Winterfell's blacksmith's daughter, had been Lyannas companion for as long as she could remember. They were close in age, only about a year apart, and because her father made the weapons and the finest jewelry for Winterfell, Alys was a welcome visitor to the castle when she got to take time away from the forge.

What Lyanna liked so much about Alys is she wasn't a simpering lady whose only 'proper' entertainment was to sew. Alys worked along side her father in the forge. She didn't actually craft anything; one had to be strong and muscular to be able to work with a hammer and an anvil and Alys was small and slender. But Alys helped with the orders and readying the materials and helped design jewelry that Lyanna knew first hand was beautiful. She always wore the necklace that Alys made for her that was a simple silver change with a pendant in the shape of the direwolf head that was printed on the Stark banners that hanged just above her breasts. As the direwolf was a profile,there was only one eye on the pendant, but it was a small sapphire that reminded Lyanna of the winter roses she loved so much.

Alys was like Lyanna in so many ways. She didn't have to be a proper, highborn lady like Lyanna, but she would have hated to be. She found the heat of the forge intoxicating, even with the smell of soot and melted steel. She loved being invited to ride with Lyanna. And most of all, she was interested in what Lyanna had to say. Not about who was courting who or what the latest fashion trends were in the south, but of what kind of sword Lyanna had always wanted to wield or the fascinating adventures that Lyanna read about in books. Not the silly adventures of a knight saving a damsel in distress. But the tragedies and the stories of hardships of well seasoned warriors.

So, Lyanna was all too happy to take a break from Robert and have lunch with her friend. Alys sat across from her at the small table in Lyanna's chambers. She wore a simple dress the color of crèam, her dirty blonde hair braided and wrapped around her head. But her pretty green eyes were gazing at Lyanna intently, which didn't bode well for Lyanna.

"Well?" she prompted.

"Well what?" Lyanna raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from her goblet.

Alys rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Well, spill about Robert Baratheon! You're betrothed and have been spending an awful lot of time together."

Lyanna sighed, setting down her goblet in exaggerated slowness, thinking of what she should say. She knew she could speak to Alys about anything, but talking about it made her fears even more real and honestly, Lyanna just wanted to accept what had been chosen for her. She was finding it difficult, however, as she was even described by her father as a fierce wolf. Fierce wolves didn't accept, they fought, tooth and nail. What was the point in being a wolf if you were just going to be chained to a tree?

"He's quite dreamy, isn't he?" Alys said when Lyanna had yet to respond.

"He is handsome," Lyanna nodded in agreement.

"But...?"

"But what?"

Alys scoffed, clearly exasperated with Lyanna's evasiveness. "Well you're certainly not swooning. You're not glowing. In fact, when I said his name you had a pained look on your face."

"Is it that obvious?" Lyanna asked with a frown.

"Kind of," Alys shrugged, "But I'm good at reading people. So what troubles you?"

"Everything about him except his looks."

"You're going to have to be more specific," Alys said, her tone of voice one she would probably use to speak to a child.

Lyanna wasn't fond of the tone, but she supposed she should probably speak up. At least someone was willing to listen. "He's just...I don't know quite how to describe it. He's completely disrespectful."

"In what way?"

"In every way!" Lyanna finally exclaimed as her frustration finally broke free. "From the sound of it, he's completely irresponsible with his duties as a lord and all he does is brag about how he bests every opponent and slaughters animals. And for someone who is _so_ in love with me, he doesn't know anything about me! He didn't even know I could ride a horse..."

Alys grimaced at that. "That is pretty bad..."

"He doesn't love me," Lyanna said in dismay. "He just loves the idea of me."

"Well...with all due respect, Lyanna, that's probably what all highborn ladies deal with. Arranged marriages rarely end in love for their partner."

"I know...I just had hoped we'd connect on some level. He doesn't seem the least bit interested in who I am. Not to mention, I highly doubt our marriage will be anything but a way for him to produce heirs. Even though he's already done that."

"I thought I had heard he had fathered a bastard...I wasn't sure if it was true," Alys frowned.

"It's true. Ned claims it will be different once we're wed, but marriage doesn't change a man. He's supposedly been in love with me for years and yet he's been bedding other women? That doesn't sound like love to me."

"You're right," Alys nodded. "I've seen the way he looks at you. But it's hard to tell if it's because of lust or love."

"You really _are_ observant, aren't you?" Lyanna raised an eyebrow. "How have you even seen the way he looks at me anyway?"

Alys rolled her eyes again. Lyanna was starting to get a little tired of that. "I was at the feast, Lyanna."

Lyanna sighed. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'm betrothed now. And if it's not Robert, it will just be some other lord who probably won't be much better."

"Well, brooding over it won't help," Alys said wisely. "It's best to try and think positively."

"I'm trying," Lyanna sighed. "No one except for you has noticed my reservations."

"That's probably for the best," Alys mused thoughtfully. "Besides, Ned likes him, so he can't be all bad. Given time, maybe you'll see another side of him."

It was Lyanna's turn to roll her eyes. "So just because Ned says something, it's the absolute truth?"

"Well..."

"Oh Alys, please don't tell me you're still lusting after my brother."

Alys' pale cheeks flushed. "It's not like that! It's just...well, Ned has a good character. You know what they say; you're defined by the company you keep."

Lyanna couldn't help the smirk that slipped onto her face. "If you say so, Alys."

Alys retaliated by throwing a chunk of bread at Lyanna's face.

* * *

On the day of Robert's departure, the Starks were gathered in the courtyard the same as they were upon his arrival. As Robert's company readied and mounted their horses, Robert gave his brotherly farewell to Ned.

"Now you keep Lyanna safe from all those other suitors," Robert told Ned, beaming with pride that made Lyanna inwardly flinch.

Ned, too, seemed uncomfortable with the request, whether or not it was a jest (which no one could discern). "Have a safe journey. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon."

"I'm counting on it," Robert said before turning to Lyanna. "It was a pleasure to spend time in your company, Lady Lyanna. I look forward to our next meeting."

"As do I," Lyanna smiled. She was still having trouble sorting out her feelings about her intended.

With a kiss planted on Lyanna's right hand, Robert waved to the Starks before mounting his steed and bellowing out to his bannermen that they were departing. The Starks watched them leave until the last horse had exited through the wooden gates

"I have a meeting to attend to," Lord Rickard then announced. "Brandon, I want you to join me."

"Yes, Father," Brandon nodded and the two made their way to the castle.

"So..." Ned turned to Lyanna, which also peaked Benjen's interest.

"Why is everyone starting their sentences with that these days?" Lyanna crossed her arms.

Ned held his hands up in surrender. "I apologize. I'm sure you're sick of everyone asking if you've fallen for our dear Robert yet."

Lyanna frowned, but she tried to hide any real emotions from her face. She didn't want to speak to Ned about her reservations of her intended. After all, Robert was like a brother to Ned. Lyanna hadn't been able to discern Ned's true feelings of their betrothal; he was better at concealing his emotions than Lyanna. Although, his brooding nature was a common trait among the Starks. Lyanna hadn't inherited said trait. She wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

"Well, sister, I have something I must attend to, but Benjen here has been slacking on his training and I think he needs a good kick in the ass," Ned smirked.

Benjen looked dismayed as Lyanna's eyes lit up. "A real fight, or do we have to use those silly wooden swords?"

"Let's use the wooden ones for now," Ned smiled, patting his sister's arm. "Otherwise you might hack Benjen's arm off."

Benjen protested that his sister would not best him in a spar, but no one was listening. Ned was headed off to whatever was so pressing and Lyanna was almost skipping to the training yard. Benjen sighed and followed after her.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 **Well look at that, another chapter! I'm on a roll (that I'm sure will end). As I mentioned, I will be moving so don't get too excited about my fairly close postings. Also, I do apologize for the rather boringness of this chapter. But like I said, we've got to set up some back story. But next chapter will be more exciting, I hope! I'll give you a hint: it involves Harrenhal *gasp***

 **Oh, a note about winter roses since I mentioned them in this chapter. We all know that winter roses were Lyanna's favorite flower. Now, for some reason, in my mind, I think of winter roses as being blue. I don't know if I actually read that in the books or if that's just the image my brain conjured. So for the purposes of my story, winter roses are blue! (Sorry if that's not cannon)**

 **As always, thanks for reading! The reviews have been much appreciated and are helping push me to get writing! Lots of love!**


	4. The Tourney of Harrenhal

A Tale of Ice and Fire

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to George R.R. Martin**

04\. The Tourney of Harrenhal

"It's ginormous!" Lyanna gasped with wide eyes, finding herself at a lack for better words.

Ned, who was riding beside his sister, laughed. She wasn't wrong. The closer they rode towards Harrenhal, the larger it appeared. It was, at least, three times the size of Winterfell. Lyanna was so in awe she barely spared a thought over her silly outburst.

The Lord of Harrenhal, Lord Walter Whent, was hosting one of the largest tourneys Westeros had ever seen. A vast majority of the major houses would be in attendance, including the Starks and the Baratheons. Both Robert and Lyanna's eldest brother, Brandon, were to be participants in the joust.

The most notable attendee of the tourney, however, was Prince Rhaegar Targaryan. Lyanna had never laid eyes on the prince, but she had heard stories. First, of his beauty from ladies who had visited Winterfell throughout the years. Tall and slender, they said, with long, silvery-white hair and deep purple eyes. She had heard he was kind to his subjects, often a familiar sight amongst the commoners of Kings Landing. They said he could play the harp more beautifully than any minstrel could ever dream to.

From the men, Lyanna had heard that Prince Rhaegar had not grown up fighting, preferring a book to a weapon, but that one day he had picked up a sword and had quickly excelled. They said he was quick as he was strong. Even the proudest of warriors admitted the prince was a force to be reckoned with.

Lyanna, herself, thought she would love to meet this fascinating prince. From all that she had heard, she thought that he sounded much like her. A mixture of beauty and fierceness. From all the stories she had read by candlelight, Lyanna thought that sounded much like a dragon. A beautiful hide with glimmering eyes, with sharpened teeth and talons.

Lyanna doubted she would be introduced to the prince, but she assumed she would see him in the joust or melee. Her feminine side was interested in the tales of his appearance, but the wolf in her craved to see his martial skills.

The Starks passed through the intimidating gates of Harrenhal into the courtyard. It was large and buzzed with life, filled with the different colored banners of each House. Lyanna was mystified by it all. As stable hands rushed out to take care of the horses and the Starks dismounted, Lyanna set to identifying the houses, all of which she had learned about in her lessons.

"I don't see Robert's party here yet," Ned said beside Lyanna, glancing around.

"He's always late," Lyanna replied, searching for the banners with a stag sewn on them.

Lyanna had seen Robert a handful of times since their betrothal. Still, she had mixed feelings about him. He was still the same as ever. She concluded that Robert genuinely thought he was gentlemanly towards her. That he didn't realize that his crude, and sometimes degrading comments, were what they were. It was his personality and most likely what he had been taught.

Lyanna was no fool; she knew how the world worked. Boys and girls were taught what their roles in life were since they could talk. Many women accepted their roles, which mainly included bearing children and keeping their husband. Some women refused to accept their fates but Lyanna couldn't think of many notable female figures in history. And the vast majority of men expected women to fit their roles. Robert was no exception. But deep down, Lyanna had always hoped to love an exception.

There was no more time to contemplate as the Starks were escorted to the large castle and to their chambers. There was to be a grand feast tonight, the likes of which Lyanna assumed she had never seen. She was expected to look her finest, as were brothers, as they were representing House Stark and first impressions were of great importance.

A handmaiden readied a warm bath for Lyanna and she took her time scrubbing away the grime of her travel to the Riverlands. She was then assisted with her hair as it was brushed until it shined and pulled away from her face with intricate braids that wrapped around to the back of her head.

Her maid helped Lyanna sort through the formal dresses she had packed for the tournament. She chose a silk dress of a pale blue color that made her gray eyes look lighter. It hugged her torso in all the correct places, then flared slightly at her hips. As always, Lyanna wore her Stark pendant necklace.

As the sun began to set, there was a knock on the door. Lyanna hurried to answer, finding Ned standing in the hall. He was dressed in his finest as well. He held his arm out. "The feast is about to begin."

Lyanna took her brother's arm, closing the door behind her. As they made their way to the great hall, Lyanna asked if Ned had met anyone from the other houses.

Ned shook his head. "No, but Father had already headed down. I, for one, am more looking forward to the feast."

Lyanna smiled. "Yes, I'm sure there is more game out here than in the north."

"And I'm sure the cooks have outdone themselves."

The siblings continued their light chatter until they reached the banquet hall. Lyanna had never seen so many people in one place. The large room was packed with people milling around while some were already seated, mugs of ale or wine in front of them.

Ned and Lyanna moved around clusters of nobles until they found their father and brothers seated beside House Tully. They took their seats and a servant wandered over, offering the pair wine, which they accepted. The head table in the front of the room was vacant, leading Lyanna to assume the feast wouldn't begin for close to another hour.

In the meantime, Lyanna busied herself by simply watching the interactions of others as she sipped her wine. When that grew tiresome, she listened to the conversation between her brothers. They were in a debate over who would win the tourney when a figure appeared before their table.

"Ah, Robert," Ned greeted, rising to his feet to shake his friend's hand. "About time you showed your face."

"I arrived in time for the most important event," Robert replied, raising a mug of what Lyanna assumed was ale.

Ned took his seat as Lord Rickard greeted Robert.

"My beloved Lyanna," Robert turned his attention to the female Stark. "Ned said you would be attending."

Lyanna offered Robert a smile. "Yes; I am so looking forward to the matches."

"Good, then you'll be there to watch me win," Robert boasted with a grin, taking a swig of ale.

"Defeating Brandon would be quite the feat," Lyanna raised her eyebrows playfully.

"She knows what she's talking about," Brandon nodded, raising his mug to her. Lyanna flashed him a grin.

"Women don't know about fighting," Robert said, winking at the Stark men.

Ned glanced at Lyanna as the atmospheric turned uncomfortable; a change that seemed to go completely unnoticed by Robert. Lyanna said nothing, of course. Although her temper still piqued at Robert's degrading comments, she had already decided to accept them. Also, making a scene at possibly the biggest tourney in history did not sound like an appealing option. Her father would no doubt be furious and embarrassed. He might be so angry he'd decide to marry her off to Peter Baelish as punishment. Lyanna nearly shuddered at the thought.

Luckily, just then, the hosting family began to file into the hall, taking their seats at the head table and signaling the beginning of the feast. Brandon quickly blurted out the fact which had the desired affect of forcing Robert to say his farewells. He did so to the Starks, without any grace (probably due to the alcohol), and wandered off to his table.

Lyanna switched her attention to the front of the room, where Lord Whent and his family had settled into their seats. Lord Walter Whent, himself, stayed on his feet and banged an eating utensil against his golden goblet, summoning the attention of those who were already drunk enough they hadn't noticed the change in the room. Lord Whent set his goblet back on the table top and addressed his guests.

"Welcome!" Lord Whent boomed, ensuring even those in the back of the hall could hear him. "It is my honor to host all of your great houses here in my hall. I have no doubt that the competitions will be thrilling to behold. As you know, I have arranged this tournament to celebrate my daughter's name day."

Lord Whent paused and waved a hand to the women sitting to his right. She appeared just slightly older than Lyanna and was surely beautiful, with fair hair and impossibly green eyes. As the attention of the entire room shifted momentarily to her, she blushed prettily, looking down at the table in embarrassment. Her father continued his speech.

"I have declared my daughter the queen of love and beauty. I have chosen her four brothers and her uncle, Ser Oswell, to defend her honor. I challenge you all to try and take that honor."

There were cheers around the hall, matching Lord Whent's lighthearted mood.

"I would also like to personally thank King Aerys II for gracing us with his presence. It is an honor to host you, your grace," Lord Whent said, drawing the focus of the room from the head table, to the table that sat just before it.

Lyanna was surprised and a little flabbergasted with herself that she hadn't noticed the _King of Westeros_ sitting in the same room as her. She hadn't even known the king would be in attendance. However, if Lyanna was reading the surprised vibe of the room, she guessed not many people knew either. In fact, the aging king was hard to see from his spot. Lyanna wondered why he was not sitting at the head table with the Whent family. She wondered if it had anything to do with the rumors of the king's growing paranoia of assassination attempts.

"Now please," Lord Whent continued. "Drink, eat, and enjoy yourselves!"

The room cheered again and the feast officially began. It was a noisy affair between the clinking of toasted goblets, the laughing of men far into their drinks, and the overall chatter of the hundreds of guests. After everyone had eaten their fill, men had begun to mill around, meeting with others from different houses. Women and men began to dance around the outskirts of tables to the music the minstrels were playing. Lyanna was enjoying the activity from her seat. She had been asked to dance several times but was now resting. Her shoes were beautiful, not practical, and she could feel her feet throbbing from the dancing, making her miss her comfortable boots that she wore when riding or practicing her swordplay. She was drinking a fresh mug of wine, feeling a soft warmness fill her that she knew was the onset of drunkenness, when a women gracefully took the seat beside her.

Lyanna glanced over and smiled when she realized her visitor was Catelyn Tully, Brandon's intended. She was a pretty girl, just slightly older than Lyanna with auburn hair and the typical Tully eyes that were a sparkling blue.

"Has Brandon left you to your own devises?" Lyanna asked.

Catelyn smiled at the name of her soon-to-be husband. Unlike Lyanna's relationship with Robert, both Catelyn and Brandon seemed fond of one another. Although Lyanna found that she had little in common with her future sister by law, she liked the girl. She was well mannered and friendly.

"He left me some time ago to place some wagers on the matches," Catelyn explained.

"Ah, so he's had too much to drink then?" Lyanna smiled.

Catelyn laughed at that, a pretty chiming sound, before agreeing with Lyanna. Lyanna then questioned the Tully about plans for her marriage, not that Lyanna cared much for such things, but Catelyn seemed excited and quickly began to chatter about the ceremony plans. Lyanna was unsure of how long the two of them engaged in conversation before Ned and Brandon made their way back to the table. The noise in the room had begun to die slightly as slowly, nobles began to disperse back to their chambers, many staggering from too much drink.

"How much coin will you be losing, brother?" Lyanna asked with a smirk as Brandon took a seat beside Lyanna.

Brandon scoffed. "And here I thought you actually had faith in me, little sister."

"I do," Lyanna insisted. "Just not as much as you seemed to have in yourself."

Ned laughed at that and even Catelyn smiled at the jest while Brandon jutted his chin out in annoyance.

Just then Catelyn gasped, grabbing the attention of the Starks. "Oh, it's Prince Rhaegar!"

The Stark siblings followed Catelyn's gaze to the front of the room. It was mostly empty there, but that was not the reason the prince was so easily distinguishable. Immediately, Lyanna realized that all the stories she had heard were not exaggerations. Prince Rhaegar sat alone at a table. His clothes were clearly expensive, but they were simple, not overly ornamental like typical royalty garb. His silvery-colored hair was pulled into a low ponytail that reached between his shoulder blades. Lyanna could not make our the exact color of the prince's eyes but-she could see his face, all angles with high cheek bones. Lyanna had never witnessed such beauty in a man before.

Catelyn and the Starks watched as Rhaegar fiddled with a golden harp, situating it upon his lap. He did not make grand announcement, or demand attention in any other way. In fact, he closed his eyes, as though the rest of the room was empty, and brought long, nimble fingers to the strings of his harp, and began to play.

The music instantly caught the attention of the remaining guests. Silence settled over the room and it was quickly filled with Rhaegar's music. Lyanna had never heard such beautiful tones. It was as though the gods themselves were whispering to her and she felt a strange tug on her heart. All at once, she felt a dozen feelings fill her. Joy and despair, excitement and fear. It was as though the music was reading all of the emotions she buried within her. All the secret pain of doing her duty as a women, and the unspoken taboo that was the elation she felt when practicing with weapons. The fear of being trapped. The devotion to honor and to her family.

She didn't even realize what was happening to her until Brandon's voice cut through the hold she found herself in.

"Are you _crying_?" Brandon asked incredulously, his face close to Lyanna.

Lyanna jerked at the suddenness of his question before realizing that she _was._ Confused, Lyanna brought a shaky hand to her cheeks, feeling that it was indeed wet. Not just slightly damp, meaning she could feign dry eyes, but actually wet. Lyanna felt lost.

"You're _crying_!" Brandon repeated with glee. "Our fierce Lyanna, brought down by a beautiful man with his beautiful harp."

Gl+ring, Lyanna reached for her goblet, half filled with wine, and poured it over the top of Brandon's head. He shouted in surprise, coaxing a laugh from Ned, while Lyanna turned her focus back to Prince Rhaegar. He had finished his song, seemingly unaware of the applause he was getting from the room.

Lyanna felt a sudden loss within her as she saw the prince put away his harp. Nothing had ever affected her like his music had. Nothing had ever spoken to her like his music had. She felt like he had rifled through her very being, bringing her true self to the surface, preferring it over the false face she put on the for the niceties of being of noble birth.

"Lyanna Stark!" Brandon huffed, pulling Lyanna's attention to him. His head was dripping wet and wine was dribbling down his face. "You're lucky you're a woman."

Lyanna scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Name the time and place, Brandon."

Brandon hmphed, clearly under the effects of alcohol. Catelyn quickly hopped to her feet, helping Brandon up and calmly telling him he should lay down and rest. Brandon agreed without much resistance and the pair made their way out of the room.

"Are you okay?" Ned quietly asked Lyanna as people began to follow Brandon's lead and make their way to their beds.

Lyanna attempted to appear unperturbed. "Of course, a little tired."

Ned frowned, but knew better than to push the subject. He merely nodded and asked if Lyanna would like to retire for the evening. She nodded and he got to his feet, offering her a hand. She took it and he pulled her up. As she rose, her eyes swept the room, but the prince was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 **Hello readers! Firstly, I just want to thank you all for your support! Every email I receive telling me you've favorited or followed this story makes me smile.**

 **Now, I know this chapter was shorter than the last one even though it took me much longer to get out. It took some time because of the recent real life events that have been occupying my time. Also, I've been reading this really awesome fanfiction and the writing is far superior to mine, which then discourages me and I kept rereading this chapter, trying to figure out how to make it better because I hated it. I know there's not a whole lot of action so far. This is a bit of a slow burn. But at least we've finally been introduced to Rhaegar (well, we have, not Lyanna). I had a hard time deciding when to end this chapter. I wanted it to be longer, but it just felt awkward to start going into the tourney. So we'll save that for next chapter, which, for what I have planned, will most likely be the longest chapter to date.**

 **For those of you who may not be as well acquainted with the books, the scene where Lyanna cries at Rhaegar's music is canon. Actually, most of the major plotlines that appear in this story are canon, I'm just adding the detail. The books just say Lyanna was moved to tears (as pointed out by her brothers) by Rhaegar. My job as the writer is to flare that up. I hope my interpretation of why this may have happened is suitable!**

 **I can make no promises on when we can expect the next chapter. And in truth, I need to actually write out a timeline of exact events because I'm not entirely sure what to put into the next chapter. But either next chapter or the chapter after that we will meet a certain knight with a certain shield (ASoIaF theorists rejoice!).**

 **Sending you much love! Feel free to comment; it puffs up my severely deflated ego.**


	5. Freedom or Duty

A Tale of Ice and Fire

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to George R.R. Martin**

01\. Freedom or Duty

A commoner might believe a tournament was the most exciting event a person could attend. They might think a tournament consisted of nobles finely dining while they watched thrilling battles of the best fighters in the land. Lyanna supposed some of this was true. They did get to watch the finest warriors spar, but there was no 'life-or-death' energy abuzz among the spectators. And the food served was delectable such that Lyanna really should be more grateful for the advantages she was bestowed. But the supposed excitement about what really happened at a tournament would most likely fall short of the expectations of commoners.

While there were enjoyable competitions and battles, the niceties required by their station required the guests at Harrenhal to witness ceremonies, bowing, gentlemanly talk and many other forms of high-bred manners that took up much more time than one might imagine.

Currently, Lyanna sat along side her brothers in the stands, watching Jamie Lannister be inducted into the Kingsguard. It was a rather boring affair, consisting mainly of vows. Vows which were of the utmost importance, of course, granted they were followed. To the Starks, vows and honor were one in the same, as the Stark House revered honor as a high priority. Others, however, could be more fickle of honor. Lyanna didn't know enough about the eldest Lannister son to make a guess about the boy's honor, but she hadn't much to do from her place in the stands.

Eventually, Lyanna felt her focus wane and her eyes began to wander. They searched the stands, once again taking in the sight of so many houses in one place. She sought out the king, finding him in a seat of honor beside the hosts of the tourney. She found that she had a better view of him from her current seat than she had the night before. Now she could see that the king was elderly; at least he appeared that way. She assumed that his hair had once been the silvery-white color characteristic of the Targaryans, but it was now the pure white that came with age and rather wispy, almost unkempt. It fell to his shoulders, unbound and unruly. His beard was even longer, falling past his chest. This too, was unruly and untrimmed. Still, the king's clothes were of the finest quality and the material nearly glimmered in the sunlight.

Lyanna looked around the king for any sign of his son, Prince Rhaegar, but she was unsuccessful in locating him. Either he was not in attendance, or he was sitting elsewhere in the stands. Before Lyanna could search further for the prince that had moved her to tears the night before, applause erupted around the stands. Lyanna quickly switched her attention back to the jousting field to see that Jamie Lannister's ceremony had come to an end. He stood tall with his new brothers, a white cloak now draped around his shoulders.

Lord Whent rose to his feet, addressing the crowd. "Congratulations Ser Jamie, may your sword always be true. My honored guests, please take this time at your leisure. The first competition will take place when the sun is at its highest."

Lyanna took a glance up at the sky to see that it was still mid morning. Around her, her brothers rose and Lyanna followed their lead.

"I suggest we convene in the tent before the start of the competition," Lord Rickard suggested to his children, referring to the tent the Starks and their bannermen were to use to ready for the competitions.

The Stark children nodded and their father took his leave. Brandon mentioned a hurried comment about Catelyn Tully and left as well, leaving the three youngest Starks standing.

"Are you off to find Robert?" Benjen asked Lyanna.

The she-wolf frowned. She had no intention of finding her betrothed, nor had the thought even crossed her mind. After his performance last night, Lyanna was finding it even more difficult to be positive about her arranged marriage. She couldn't voice this, however, and waved off the comment. "I thought I might walk the grounds, see what there is to see."

Ned raised an eyebrow, knowing very well this was but a vague excuse. He said nothing, however, and Benjen was the one who spoke. "Don't get lost, sister. I will see the both of you at the tent later."

"Where are you going?" Ned asked.

Benjen shifted uncomfortably before responding. "There is a member of the Night's Watch here."

"Are you thinking of joining?" Lyanna asked in surprise. Her brother had never spoken of interest in joining the men of the Night's Watch and from the stories she heard of what was required of them, even enduring the blistering cold of The Wall, it was not a decision to take lightly.

Benjen shrugged with a nonchalance Lyanna wasn't sure the boy really felt. "I don't have a lot of options, being the youngest. I could always marry of course, but not much adventure in that. At the very least, I thought I could talk to the man."

Lyanna and Ned nodded their understanding and bid their brother goodbye. As he left, Ned turned to Lyanna. "See what there is to see?"

Lyanna stuck her tongue out at her brother in a very childish manner. "Yes. In case you didn't know, adventure rarely finds one within a tent."

"Oh, so you are off to have an adventure?" Ned teased.

"Maybe," Lyanna responded in jest before turning on her heel and leaving her smirking brother behind.

True to her word, Lyanna did take a walk around the jousting field, weaving in and out of the tents of other houses. No one paid much mind to her, but that suited Lyanna fine. She enjoyed seeing the different armor of the opposing houses and smelling the different scents around her; aromas of food foreign to Winterfell, the smells of newly mended leathers and melded metal, and the smell of the breeze itself that carried the scent of a land so different to her own home.

As she roamed, Lyanna let her mind wander. She wondered if this is how knights felt when they traveled. If they reveled in the differences of other lands and felt a sense of freedom at being among strangers and being immersed in different cultures. Perhaps not. Knights were always bound to honor and their duties, as was she. But just now, she could pretend she was not a young women, sworn to a man for whom she held no love. Just now, she had no pressing matters to attend to. She could just be a young woman, lost in her adventure, as mundane and simple as it was. She cherished it, and almost felt a little lost when she found it time to make her way to the Stark tent and remember just who she was. But as fate would have it, one more adventure found its way in Lyanna's path before she reached the tent.

Lyanna had just rounded a wooden fence, near enough to her destination that she could see the Stark banner that flapped gently above their tent, when a most disturbing scene unfolded right in front of her. There was a young man on the grass, near curled into himself. He was a man grown, but not of large stature. He was slightly turned towards her, enough so that she could see a crest sewn into the leather vest he wore. He was a Reed, a sworn bannerman to her house. Three boys, who appeared younger than Lyanna but were much larger in size than the Reed, were bullying the bannerman. They leered over the fallen man, taking turns kicking him and laughing cruelly.

A sudden rage overtook Lyanna. There was no weapon in the Reed's hands, leaving him defenseless. A Stark bannerman or not, Lyanna could _taste_ the dishonor that was attacking a defenseless man. Before her brain could make a decision on what to do, Lyanna's body was marching forward, her slight hands balled into fists at her sides.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lyanna snarled in a very wolf-like manner.

The three boys, squires by the looks of them, halted their assault to look a the new arrival. Finding said arrival to be a woman, especially of slight frame and short stature, the squires laughed.

"Look here boys," sneered the largest of the boys. "A woman has come to defend our little Reed."

The trio laughed and another piped up. "Walk away woman, this matter does not concern you."

"This man is a member of my house, and you **will** desist," Lyanna glared.

"Oh, it's the Lady Stark," the largest squire smirked. "You must be lost; we have no sewing needles here."

Lyanna could feel her rage growing, spreading through her body to the tips of her digits. She was tired of men looking down at her because she didn't have an appendage hanging between her legs. She was increasingly annoyed over her place in society. And she was absolutely enraged that these green boys who had, most likely, only recently began training with real steel, thought they were better than her because she was a female.

She was done with it, with all of it. She didn't want to spend her life in the background, bearing children for a man who could not respect her for anything other than her ability to remain silent. She did not want to give up her late night swordplay and all the sweat and blood that came along with it. She had no desire to give up her right of _wanting_.

And she would do this no longer.

Lyanna took one step to her left where a weapon rack sat upon the ground, filled with wooden training swords and a bow. She grabbed a sword, switching it to her dominant right hand and faced the arrogant squires. At the sight of her, the boys roared in laughter. Lyanna glared. Wordlessly, she moved forward with all of her swiftness, slamming the wooden sword into the belly of the largest boy.

The boy quit laughing immediately, due to the air being forced out of his lungs. His hands grasped for his abdomen and he fell to his knees. Before the other boys could even realize what had happened, Lyanna slammed the flat of her blade against the knees of the second boy, immediately sending him to the hard ground. By now, the last boy had enough time to widen his eyes and hold up his hands in defense, but Lyanna was not in a forgiving mood. She slapped the blade against the boy's raised arms, making him jerk and she took the opportunity to slam her wooden blade into his shoulders, making him crumple alongside his fallen squires.

As soon as her 'opponents' were all beaten, Lyanna immediately became aware. It wasn't until that moment that Lyanna even realized she had been completely acting on instinct. She felt the adrenaline she hadn't notice had filled her, seep from her. She was breathing hard, though not from exertion and she realized she was gripping her training sword so hard she wondered if there were going to be splinters in her hand.

In no hurry, Lyanna replaced the sword in the weapons rack that she had taken it from. Bypassing the fallen and groaning squires, she approached the Reed that was still on the ground, but staring up at Lyanna with wide, wondrous eyes. Lyanna said nothing, but offered her hand. The man remained still at first, seemingly in awe, but finally, he took the offered hand and Lyanna gently pulled him to his feet. As she did so, however, the Reed bannerman cried out in pain.

Lyanna frowned, trying to assess the short man. "Are you hurt?"

Meekly, as though ashamed, the Reed grabbed his arm and just gave a slight nod. Lyanna eyes moved to the man's arm. It didn't appear broken, at least the arm didn't look disfigured, but cuts and bruises were to be expected.

"What is your name?" Lyanna asked gently.

"Howland Reed, my lady," the man replied.

Lyanna smiled and nodded, looping her arm through Howland's uninjured arm. Gently, she escorted the injured man to the Stark tent. The entrance was slightly open and Lyanna barely had to move the flap further to fit inside. The rest of the Starks had already arrived when Lyanna entered. Upon seeing the injured bannermen, Brandon jumped up from his seat.

"Lyanna, is everything alright?" the eldest Stark brother asked, his eyes following Lyanna as she moved into the tent.

"I'm fine, Brandon," Lyanna assured her brother as she moved towards the back of the tent and bid Howland to be seated on the cot. "This is Howland Reed. I found him with some rather unsavory squires."

Lyanna moved to a chest beside the cot, pulling out thin pieces of linen, and placed them beside Howland. As she moved a bit farther away to retrieve a pitcher of water, Lyanna recounted the tale, omitting the part where she beat the three boys with a wooden sword, instead vaguely stating that she put them in their place. Her brothers muttered to themselves about clear disrespect as Lyanna cleaned Howland Reed's wound and bound it with the linen.

"It hurts worse than it is," Lyanna assured with a smile when she finished her work.

Blushing slightly out of embarrassment, Howland stuttered out his thanks.

"We take care of our own," Lyanna stated, prompting nods from her brothers. "And as one of our own, you shall be attending the feast with us tonight."

Howland's eyes grew wide and he vigorously shook his head no. "I-I cannot, my lady! I mean...that is...I...I can't! I don't belong there!"

"I don't belong at the feast?" Lyanna asked in confusion. "This is news to me..."

"No, not you my lady! I said-"

"I heard what you said," Lyanna cut Howland off. "I don't think you heard what _I_ said. I said you are one of us. You belong there just as much as I do. And I will see you at the feast."

Howland opened his mouth but no words came out. Either he was in awe,or he was intimidated by the stern look Lyanna was giving him, or both. Lyanna accepted that as a response and moved from the bannerman to her younger brother.

"Benjen, do you think you could find something suitable for Howland to wear this evening?"

Benjen glanced over to the man, assessing his size. Finally, he nodded. "I'm sure I can find something."

Lyanna nodded and smiled, moving towards the exit.

Lord Rickard, who hadn't said anything since his daughter had entered the tent, or even looked up from what he'd been doing in the corner of the room, finally spoke up. "Where are you off to, Lyanna? The first competition is going to start soon."

"I know, Father, I will be there," Lyanna promised. "I'm just going to take the long way there, just in case anyone else needs my saving."

A shadow of a smile appeared on Lord Rickard's face before he nodded. Lyanna waved to her brothers before exiting the tent. As she had told her father, Lyanna's intent was to take the long path back to the stands. She wanted time to think without interruptions.

Lyanna thought back to her skirmish with the three squires. Pieces of the fight were a blur to her, but she could recall the feel of the sword in her hand and she could hear the grunts of the boys when she hit her mark. She remembered the _freedom_. The freedom to stand up for what she believed in, to defend, to fight. And she remembered the reason she felt this freedom was because she told herself she was no longer going to accept her lot in life, and that had been the most freeing moment of all.

Lyanna focused on this thought. The thought of being free. She craved that feeling, more than anything. But to be free was to forsake her duty. To make a choice to break her engagement and to do as she chose would be to dishonor her family. Could she really do that? She had beat three squires with swords because of their dishonor, but here she was, thinking of dishonor herself.

Lyanna's heart filled with despair. The kind of crushing despair that could not be contained. Lyanna felt as though her chest would burst open and the despair would flow out of her. She felt tears prick her eyes as the despair tried to escape her body. But she couldn't let it. She could not fall apart here. She wouldn't.

Lyanna told herself this was not a black and white situation. That there was a solution and she just needed the time to find it and right now she just didn't have the time. That little voice in the back of her mind told her this could very well be a lie. But she held on to that lie, and clutched it to her heart, because she needed it right now. She needed it to be able to walk into those stands and take her seat.

So she clutched onto her probable lie and she took her seat in the stands overlooking the jousting field. People began to file in soon after, including her family. Shortly after, the competitors entered the field below. But Lyanna couldn't focus on any of it. Her eyes were watching the events, but her mind was not comprehending what was happening. Her mind could only focus on one thing: _how can I have my freedom?_

* * *

The feast that evening was just as grand as the previous night, excluding the speeches. There were just as many courses and just as much alcohol. This night, however, there was much more energy, due mostly to the fact that everyone had rested from their long travels. There was more dancing, laughter, and cheers.

Although the food had been served and devoured, and many had begun to mill about the hall, the Starks, minus Lord Rickard, were still seated. As Lyanna had ordered, Howland Reed sat among the Starks. At first he had been silent and painfully awkward, but Benjen had shoved a mug of ale into his hand and Lyanna had peppered him with questions until he began to speak and laugh.

Lyanna had done her best to join in with the laughing and jesting. It had been difficult at first, her mind still plagued with fantasies of freedom. But fortunately, there was plenty of wine to be consumed and by this time of the evening, Lyanna's mind felt warm and near carefree. The troubles remained, but they felt distant and less pressing than they had mere hours earlier. It was near equally helpful that Robert had been engaged in a drinking contest and, having won, was far too inebriated to make his way to the Stark table.

"You've proved yourself to me, Reed!" Benjen said jovially as Howland slammed an empty mug on the tabletop. "You may be Lyanna's size but at least you can handle your drink!"

Lyanna shot a glare over at her brother, lowering her goblet to do so. "I beg your pardon?"

"She's so drunk she can't even hear! Have you ever heard of such a thing?" Benjen teased.

Witty responses lost to the alcohol, all Lyanna could do was spit her tongue out, causing her brothers to laugh. In her state, the lady Stark laughed as well, turning back to her drink. It was then that Lyanna's eyes caught something. She gasped dramatically and hit Brandon in the arm repeatedly with excitement.

"Ah, what!?" Brandon hissed, grabbing at his arm.

"That's one of the squires from earlier!" Lyanna announced, grabbing the attention of the other males. All peered over to examine the boy. Now he was dressed in the colors of the house he squired for: House Frey.

"Are the other two here?" Benjen asked, peering over his shoulder despite the fact he had know idea who he was looking for.

Lyanna's brow furrowed with concentration as she set to looking around the hall. There were so many people, it took a solid minute, but finally, Lyanna discreetly pointed to the back of the room.

"That one, the squire for House Blount," Lyanna said, then after another moment of searching: "And there, House Haigh."

"Are you sure?" Benjen asked. Lyanna glared in response and Benjen held his hands up in surrender.

"The knight representing each of those houses competed today," Ned mused. "They were all victorious. Perhaps they should spend less time focusing on their enemies and spend more time teaching their squires some honor."

"Howland, if you want to avenge yourself, I can find you a horse and some armor," Brandon offered, peering over at the Reed. "Not against the squires themselves, but you could challenge the knights on the morrow."

Howland seemed to pale slightly and shrunk in his seat. He fidgeted uncomfortably and said nothing. Brandon seemed to recognize this, and instead of commenting on it, decided to change the subject. Lyanna, however, did not hear what Brandon began to talk about, as she was lost in her own thoughts.

She stared at Howland, a frown on her face, and she could not help the spark of irritation ignite in her chest. Howland was a man. He had the ability to fight for himself. The _freedom_ to do it. And he was declining. The rational part of Lyanna's brain knew very well why the man had declined and knew being angry at him was folly. He was not built for battle. He was not accustomed to horses and armor and lances. He was the right sex, but did not have the proper skills. And here sat Lyanna, born with the wrong parts and the necessary skills. Skills she could not utilize.

And all at once, her problems broke through the haze of alcohol and filled her mind. The familiar pressure in her chest returned as her heart constricted. The feeling of hopelessness started to spread through her. In the same way a hot beverage might flow into one's stomach and seep throughout the body, warming a cold individual, the hopelessness spread through her, cooling her instead of warming. She could feel a lump form in her throat and, once again, she felt the damnable tears begin to build, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

But then, a sound hit Lyanna's ears. She barely noticed it at first, as it filled the air around her like it was meant to be there. It took her a moment to realize it was a harp, and another moment to realize the tears had dried before they could fall. The knot in her chest was loosening and the sorrow that had been building within her started to ebb away as the music filled her.

The music reminded her of simpler times, happier times. Her mind was suddenly filled with memories of sunny afternoons spent running barefoot in the Godswood. Mornings spent swinging a tiny wooden sword, trying to copy her brothers before she was old enough to realize her hands were only ever meant to cradle babes. Nights running around the castle because she _could,_ because she was a child who could _choose_ how to spend her time.

Lyanna drew herself out of her mind as the tune changed. She peered up, looking about her, desperate to find the source of the beautiful music that seemed to touch her very soul. It did not take her long, and truthfully, she was not surprised when she found the man with the harp seated in a corner of the room.

 _The prince,_ Lyanna realized. He was still playing his harp, his fingers seemingly effortlessly skimming the strings of his instrument. He was dressed similarly to the previous night, his garb simple and rather plain for his station, despite their well-made quality. His eyes were closed as he strummed his golden-painted harp, seeming lost in his own beautiful music.

Lyanna knew she was staring. She knew how incredibly obvious and rude it was, but she couldn't stop. She was mesmerized by this man and his harp. How his music touched her soul. That, although his fingers were strumming the strings of his instrument, it felt like his fingers were strumming the strings of her very core, making her feel and wish and dream.

She didn't know how long she'd been practically gaping before she felt an elbow jab into her rib cage. Gasping from the momentary pain, Lyanna glared to see Benjen smirking at her, his eyes twinkling with a sort of mischief that set Lyanna at unease.

"What?" Lyanna asked wearily, subconsciously rubbing at her side.

"You're not going to cry again, are you?" her brother asked, raising his eyebrows.

Lyanna silver eyes narrowed at her brother before glancing to her goblet of wine. It was empty, so she abandoned that mode of revenge and instead curled her small hand into a fist and punched her brother in the upper arm.

"Ah!" Benjen yelped in surprise, grabbing for his arm. He shot a glare at his sister who only smirked triumphantly.

Benjen grumbled something before turning back to his brothers. Lyanna turned back to the prince. He was still seated, but no longer playing. In fact, Lyanna noted with a start, the Targaryan was staring right at Lyanna, his amethyst-colored eyes seemingly staring at hand through her at the same time. The girl's heart caught in her throat and she quickly looked away, down to the tabletop where she refused to advert her eyes from until she heard Prince Rhaegar's harp sound again. Only then did Lyanna glance back to the prince, but this time more discreetly.

This time, Prince Rhaegar's music did not fill her with fond memories and a sense of ease. The music was different. It spoke to her desires and to her sense of purpose. It told her not to accept this hopelessness, but to fight it. To rise above it. To become someone _she_ wanted to be. To stop thinking, stop abiding, and just _do._ She didn't even question what she needed to do. The moment she realized she need to _do,_ she also realized just _what_ she needed to do. She didn't know how. It was absurd to believe the music was whispering in her ear, but that's what it felt like.

And, oh, the feeling! This wonderful feeling. It was not to be ignore, could not be ignored.

Abruptly, Lyanna rose to her feet. The movement was so sudden, she immediately grew dizzy; she'd forgotten how much alcohol she had consumed. But she shook it off, to the best of her ability. She had something to attend to.

The seated Starks did not seem to notice Lyanna's movement, as they did not look over at her. Seizing the opportunity, Lyanna left the table, and just as quickly swept from the room. The music followed her out of the hall, into the corridor and even into the dark of night. It was not echoing in her ears, not now. It was in her core as she fled into the courtyard.

 _This is madness_ , said the little voice in Lyanna's mind.

 _No,_ Lyanna insisted to herself. _Well, perhaps_.

Perhaps it was madness. Assuredly, it was wrong by all convention. Maybe even an affront to the gods, depending on the god being worshiped.

Lyanna didn't have a profound conclusion. She didn't have a deep thought pertaining to her place in society. All she had was: _I don't care_.

She didn't care about society, or the gods, damn them all. Maybe it was the alcohol relieving her of these concerns that normally shaped her life. It was possible that in the morning she would second-guess herself. But tonight she did not care. At least for tonight, she decided, she would be free.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **My apologies for my absence! The time I can allot to writing is essentially nil. I've been working on this chapter since I last posted and it took me until today to finish it. And since I am constantly returning to the story throughout a period of, say a week or two, a lot of my ideas get lost to neglect and fatigue. So this chapter probably came out much different than how I intended. So please, please let me know if I'm doing a decent job. I know this is a slow burner, and I had planned on introducing a certain knight in this chapter, but I will save it for next chapter.**

 **I'm also a little concerned that my portrayal of Lyanna is going south. If not that, that her constant back and forth between who she should be is getting boring. I truly think this is what Lyanna would have struggled with, but perhaps it's getting a little drawl reading about it. Please let me know!**

 **Also, and perhaps you will be dismayed to read this, I've started an AryaXGendry story. I haven't finished the first chapter, because I'm trying to use my near non-existent time to work on this. But I always wanted to work on a story for that pairing and I think I finally have a decent idea for one. So that may be coming in the future.**

 **Thank you for reading and your patience! Much love.**


	6. The Knight of the Laughing Tree

A Tale of Ice and Fire

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to George R.R. Martin**

06\. The Knight of the Laughing Tree

When Lyanna was a young girl, no older than eight, she was climbing a tall tree in the godswood. Benjen, a year her junior, was desperately trying to catch up to his sister, but failing horribly. None of the Stark brothers had quite the nimbleness of the only female Stark sibling.

Benjen, winded and struggling called out to his sister and pleaded to her to slow her pace. Lyanna knew that she should, but she was intoxicated by the adrenaline that rushed through her body the higher she climbed and the more distant her brother's shouts sounded. Everything was a blur of colors and sounds. The wind rushed through her long hair and blew at her body, but it was no match for Lyanna. She was queen up here, able to overpower even the winds themselves.

But then there was screaming. It was so shrill and filled with terror that it tore Lyanna from her thoughts and immediately stole the adrenaline from her veins. She looked down from her spot very, very high in the tree in time to see Benjen hit the ground.

All these years later, Lyanna couldn't remember what had happened next, not exactly. She knew she must have scaled down the tree, but she could not remember doing it. Though she did remember her terrified and racing thoughts as she wondered how high he had been when he had fallen. And she vaguely remembered helping Benjen limp to the maester. All of this was a blur to Lyanna. But the memories of the time after she left her brother with the maester were still vivid to the girl.

Lyanna had sat in her room all night, pacing the floor and biting her nails to the nubs as she waited for her father to find her and punish her for being so irresponsible. Or worse, that she would be told Benjen would be hurt for the rest of his life, or what if he died!? And those racing thoughts had her heart pounding. She skipped dinner that evening; she wasn't even hungry. She was so anxious that she didn't fall asleep until pure exhaustion overcame her in the early hours of the next morning.

The same stomach-churning anxiety ate away at Lyanna this particular morning. It was the reason the eggs in front of her remained untouched and cooling. However, it was _not_ the reason she was exhausted. That was due to the long night of preparations she had just endured.

Luckily for Lyanna, her company had been too intoxicated last night to remember her leaving the feast hall. They also had not checked to see if she returned to her chambers that night, as she hadn't until the wee hours of the morning. This did not ease her anxiety much this morning, as she now worried whether her preparations had been enough. But they had to be, as she couldn't spare any extra time now. Not with her family near her.

As she looked to her family now, eating their fill, joking and talking among themselves about the day's activities, Lyanna felt the sourness of doubt creep into her. Maybe this was a terrible idea. Just a silly, rebellious and rather selfish act. If anyone discovered the truth, it would not only bring shame to herself, but to the Stark name.

Then the guilt kicked in. Last night she had been so sure of her decision to release herself from the shackles of society. She still could not deny how it made her feel: free, at ease, unafraid. But now the nagging thoughts of repercussions had returned, most likely due to her current sobriety. She was not nearly as sure that she wanted to face these repercussions here in the light of the new day. Or more importantly, that she wanted her family to face them.

Lyanna's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. As they raged inside of her, she could feel her stomach churning and clenching and she thought she might be sick. She had to leave this room. It was too suffocating. She needed air.

Lyanna pushed out her chair, quickly getting to her feet. Ned, who had been sitting beside her, turned his head at his sister's actions, but she paid no mind. She was already rushing from the table, headed for the nearest exit. When she found it, she hurried outside.

The cool morning air hit Lyanna's face and she immediately felt her stomach relax. It did not quite ease her thoughts, but she accepted the small reprieve it did give and nearly gulped in the fresh air. She let herself listen to the sounds of the squires and bannermen who were busy with their own preparations, further out in the grounds. She wanted to stay in that moment as long as possible, to let the sounds and smells of simpleness calm her, but it was not to be. For just then, a visitor appeared at her elbow.

"Lyanna, may I have a word?"

Lyanna turned her head to see it was her father who had joined her. He was looking hard at her face but his silver-eyes were guarded and Lyanna could not decipher was he was thinking. She nodded.

Rickard Stark gently took his daughter by the elbow and led her down the stone steps that led to the keep and into the yards stretched before it. Lyanna thought they might be headed to their tent, but Lord Rickard stopped before the mass of tents and below a large tree. There was no one around but the sounds of working men still reached Lyanna's ears.

"Is everything alright, father?" Lyanna asked.

"I wanted to speak with you about last evening."

Lyanna felt her stomach drop. How could he know about her activities the night before? Had someone seen her? She thought she had been careful. Although, she had still been under the effects of alcohol late into the night. Perhaps she had been clumsy and drawn attention to herself?

When his daughter did not reply, Lord Rickard continued. "It has been brought to my attention that you were drinking heavily last night."

Lyanna's mind stopped racing. For a brief moment, she was confused. "Father?"

"A young woman of your status should not be consuming alcohol in such a fashion. You are a lady and are to conduct yourself as such. You are lucky you did not make a fool of yourself."

Lyanna's mouth dropped slightly, her eyes on her father. He was not yelling, but his tone was non-negotiable and his face seemed made of stone. He was chastising her and thoroughly disappointed in her behavior. Her behavior being, she drank enough alcohol last night to be considered drunk. Despite the fact that she had not caused a scene, she was being scolded for inviting such a possibility by drinking too heavily.

A wave of disappointment crashed into Lyanna. Her father had always been understanding of who she was, to an extent. She was never allowed to carry a sword, or even use a sword, but Rickard Stark had always been lenient of letting Lyanna watch her brothers train or letting her muddy a dress when she took a rather wild ride around Winterfell. But that Rickard Stark was gone now. In front of her was a man no different than any other, who expected Lyanna to behave in the appropriate fashion which left no room for extra activities.

It was such a sudden shift. What had happened? Was it due to the other nobles they dined with at this tourney? Was he afraid his daughter might embarrass him in front of other lords by acting in any manner that might be considered unladylike? Was these strict rules to be followed here, or would it be this way when she returned home? Would she spend the rest of her days at Winterfell sewing and sitting politely in a chair so she would be prim and proper before being married off?

Just like that, those damnable tears began to sting at Lyanna's eyes. She had never been one to shed tears, but the last few days she felt like that had been all she'd been doing. Here, in the very throes of her society, Lyanna had been reminded time and time again of her cruel reality. Perhaps she'd been denying it for too long. Maybe she'd taken for granted the leniency she'd been granted her whole life?

But Lyanna did not let her sadness show. Instead, she bowed her head in an attempt to appear chastened. "You're right, Father. I am sorry..."

Lord Rickard remained silent for so long, Lyanna lifted her head to look at her father. His face was no longer stern and unyeilding. Instead, he was frowning and his eyes thoughtful. Gently, he took his daughter's hand in his. "My daughter, you are a young woman now who shall soon be wed. It is time you do all that is expected of you. Ser Robert needs a proper highborn wife. You must put your willfulness and stubbornness aside and be so."

Lyanna said nothing. She couldn't, lest the lump in her throat betray her. She only nodded.

Lord Rickard sighed deeply and leaned forward, planting of a soft kiss on his only daughter's forehead. Brushing back a stray strand of brown hair, he pulled back, turned on his heel, and made his way back to the feast hall.

Lyanna remained for a long moment after. Her gaze was steady on the grass-covered ground, her mind, for the first time in what seemed like ages, was still. Just an hour ago, she had been filled with doubt and uncertainty. Now, none remained. With a newfound determination, Lyanna lifted her head, grabbed her skirts, and hurried across the yard.

* * *

Rhaegar Targaryan wished he was sitting anywhere else in the stands. He would sit next to any other person willingly. No one would know that however by looking at his face. As per usual, it was perfectly composed. It had to be, after all. His father was already suspicious of him as it was.

King Aerys Targaryan II was a very paranoid man. He was convinced everyone was on a mission to dethrone him and take the crown. In this case, however, he was correct. Rhaegar himself had bartered for this tourney in an attempt to unite the major houses of Westeros against his father.

It was not for selfish reasons. In fact, Rhaegar wasn't exactly over the moon with joy over the prospect of ruling the country. But the king was quickly descending into madness, as was clear for even those not close to him to see. If he stayed in power for much longer, terrible things were going to happen. Rhaegar knew he had to do something about his father.

What Rhaegar did not know was how his father discovered his plan. King Aerys II never left his presumed safety of King's Landing. He was too paranoid that traveling anywhere outside of the Red Keep would surely invite an assassination attempt. So Rhaegar had felt confident in his plan to host this tourney for his political plans.

Someone must have betrayed Rhaegar's trust. Or perhaps there was a particularly clever rat feeding information to the king. Either way, it had disturbed the king enough to make him leave his sanctuary and travel to the tourney. It had caused quite the upset in Rhaegar's plan, as well as causing him more than a few headaches.

With his plan mostly foiled, Rhaegar had to act like his father's belief that Rhaegar himself was planning a dethroning of his father was absolute nonsense. This meant Rhaegar had to put aside his general dislike of his father and appear that he was glad the king had come and spending time with him was a pleasure. Thus the reason he was seated beside his father on this particular morning.

But the morning had already felt like an eternity, and they were barely into the first few jousting matches. King Aerys II had been muttering incoherent words under his breath and taking suspicious glances at Rhaegar every few minutes. It was more than enough to set the prince on edge, but he could say nothing. He couldn't even frown. So he sat with a carefully composed face, his eyes set on the field below. He watched as the porcupine knight of House Blount was declared the winner and a new challenger was led onto the field. Rhaegar sat straighter in seat. Now here was something interesting.

As the future king of Westeros, coup d'etat or not, Rhaegar had been taught since an early age the history of Westeros. He learned about all the major houses. He knew their sigils, their history and every role they played in politics, from the start of their house, until now. And as an avid reader, Rhaegar had learned much and more and was blessed with an impeccable memory to store and recall all this knowledge. So when a knight entered the field, carrying a shield painted with a sigil unfamiliar to him, Rhaegar was very intrigued.

The image in question was painted beautifully on the leather shield, there was no doubt. But it was not a coat of arms Rhaegar had ever seen before. The image on the shield was that of a white weirwood tree with a laughing, red face. Rhaegar had never seen a weirwood tree quite like that, but there was no mistaking that it was one. Weirwood trees of that beauty were only found in the north. Rhaegar proceeded to take in the knight.

There was absolutely no denying that the new knight was short in stature, at least two heads shorter than his opponent. His armor was curious as well. The pieces were mismatched and appeared to have been scavenged. It must have been, Rhaegar reasoned, as none of the pieces fit well. The chest plate was sliding around with every movement of the knight, while the arm guards he wore seemed so tight that Rhaegar wondered if the knight could feel his hands.

To Rhaegar's right, his father gestured to the Kingsguard knight protecting him. He demanded of the White Cloak to answer who this mysterious knight was. Despite his descent into madness, King Aerys was still mentally aware enough to know when something was amiss. Or perhaps it was his paranoia which kept him very aware of his surroundings.

But Rhaegar very much doubted that this knight was part of a plan to assassinate his father. More likely than not the knight in question was a young squire trying to prove himself. That would certainly explain the 'knight's' small stature. The pretend-knight would probably be beaten immediately and the competition would move on.

But to Rhaegar's surprise, this was not what happened. The porcupine knight was defeated, rather easily in fact. The pitchfork knight of House Haigh faced the mysterious challenger next. He competed more fiercely than the knight before him, but he too lost to the knight of the laughing tree. By the time the third, original competitor entered the field, the knight of the two towers who served House Frey, all those in the stands were paying acute attention.

Rhaegar was just as amazed as the spectators around him. There was no doubt in his mind that this new competitor was not a knight. If they had been, there would have been no need to throw together mismatched pieces of armor. But this small squire, or whatever he was, had talent. While the pitchfork knight and the porcupine knight were no Selmy Barristan, they were trained knights and no ordinary squire could simply beat them in any competition.

When the knight of House Frey was forced off of his horse, cheers erupted from the spectators. Rhaegar found himself clapping along. In fact, it seemed that everyone aside from the three defeated houses and King Aerys were thrilled with this underdog's third victory.

Down on the field, the knight of the laughing tree was not soaking in the praise, which was odd. He had defeated three knights, and therefore also won their horses and armor, as was customary. It was quite the feat and yet the 'knight' did not even wave to the crowd. Although perhaps the winner was preoccupied by three very angry and humiliated knights approaching him.

The stands quickly fell silent as the scene played out below. It almost appeared that there would be another skirmish, and the nobles loved nothing more than drama. As the wooden stands were not built very high, Rhaegar could hear the words being exchanged on the field. It also helped that everyone had gone silent.

"Well done, sir." the porcupine knight gritted out. He and his fellow losers had removed their helmets, as it was now the rightful property of the knight of the laughing tree anyhow. But the victor kept theirs on.

"Yes, well done," agreed the knight of the two towers, his tone saying the exact opposite of his words. "But as you were not meant to compete here, you have no right to our property."

The knight of the laughing tree said nothing, which caused the three defeated knights to grow angrier. But none approached the victor. They had already lost once after all.

"I will return your possessions, on one condition," the knight of the laughing tree finally proclaimed.

Now there was a curious voice, Rhaegar thought. It was booming, almost as though the competitor was attempting to sound bigger and possibly older. Or perhaps he was making sure the spectators could also hear him through his helm. But he needn't worry, he had everyone's attention.

"Your squires are guilty of the utmost dishonor to your house name. I will return your armor, once you have taught them manners. If they ever plan to be knights their terrible behavior must change."

Rhaegar had no way of knowing if the defeated knights knew about their squires' behavior. In fact, to him it sounded as though the laughing tree knight spoke of a very specific incident of rudeness and dishonor. But the three knights didn't ask questions. In a hurry to gain back their lost possessions, they called forth their young squires and in front of entirety of nobles in Westeros and in plain view of the gods, the squires were chastised for their insolence, rudeness, and a slew of other affronts.

Rhaegar was in awe. Had this non-knight truly entered a jousting competition and defeated three knights for the sole purpose of teaching three, rude squires some manners? As the knight of the laughing tree returned his spoils of winning, it was very clear to the prince that he had.

But not everyone shared Rhaegar's feelings. Specifically, his father was not too pleased as he watched the knight of the laughing tree exit the field. He was grumbling under his breath, his eyes growing wild under bushy eyebrows.

"Rhaegar!" King Aerys growled to his son. "Go bring me that boy's head!"

"Father, have you lost your mind!?" Rhaegar hissed in return, amethyst-colored eyes narrowing to slits.

"That knight is no knight!" King Aerys insisted. "He was not here yesterday. He must have been sent when they realized I had come. He's here to kill me!"

There it was again: 'they'. King Aerys often referred to 'they', which Rhaegar had come to learn was a generalized term for the king's supposed enemies who were intent on killing him. And while Rhaegar was sure there were some out there who would be happy to see Aeryss rule end, there had been no assassination attempts to justify the paranoia. And this knight, or whatever he was, was certainly not sent to do that job now.

But Rhaegar could sense the madness taking over the king and that did not bode well for anyone. And this would be an opportunity to satisfy Rhaegar's own curiosity. "I will personally find this knight, Father. You needn't worry."

King Aerys relaxed slightly in his seat and Rhaegar nearly jumped to his feet. It was enough of a relief to be able to leave his father's side, but he was very much excited to meet this knight of the laughing tree. Whoever they were, they must be an interesting person.

* * *

Lyanna had been quick to leave the jousting field and had stolen away to the outskirts of Harrenhal's main lands. It was a heavily wooded area and Lyanna thought she might be safe from prying eyes here. She feared she may have attracted unwanted attention by showing up as a mysterious knight and defeating three actual knights. But Lyanna held no regrets.

As Lyanna began to remove her armor, she let her mind roam over the events of the morning. Just like with her fight with those three squires, she could not remember every move that she had taken. But she could remember the adrenaline pumping through her veins and the sound of splintering wood and the thunderous clomping of her horse's hooves on the ground.

And she had won! Her, highborn lady Lyanna Stark, with no formal training, had defeated three titled knights. The lance had been heavy, the shield awkward to hold, the tall men intimidating, but she had done it. And she hadn't thought about what she'd been doing while she was doing it. She had just let instincts take over as well as the memories of growing up watching her brothers learn to do the very thing she was doing.  
She could not let anyone know that it was her, a woman, who had managed such a feat. Despite her performance, it would only bring her and her family dishonor. But that was perfectly fine with Lyanna. She had not done this for the glory of it. She had done it to avenge her bannerman and to hopefully teach those squires a lesson.

And, if Lyanna was being honest with herself, she had done it for a selfish reason as well. To prove to herself that she could. That she could be a woman, and a warrior. And to feel that freedom. After all, this could be the very last occasion she would feel this way. Unless she finally made the choice to forsake her duty as a highborn lady.

The sharp snapping of a twig tore Lyanna from her thoughts. Someone was near! She had removed all of her armor but she was standing right beside her weirwood shield that was leaning up against a tree. Any person that could put two things together could conclude who she was. Heart pounding, Lyanna rushed behind the tree and prayed to remain undiscovered.

The clearing was quiet for a long moment. Lyanna knew someone had entered it, but their footsteps must be light and trained. Lyanna focused on slowing her nervous breathing, as she would surely be discovered with how loud it was. But a minute passed, and another, and Lyanna thought she might be safe. That was, until someone rounded the tree she hid behind and Lyanna found herself face to face with Rhaegar Targaryan.

"Ah, well this is interesting."

Rhaegar had to admit he'd had a stroke of luck in finding the mystery knight. He had been quick to leave the stands and had just caught sight of the knight of the laughing tree entering the woods. He had quickly followed and was able to hear the sounds of the knight relieving himself of his armor. But in his haste, he had not been as quiet as he should and when he entered the clearing, he was only confronted with the sight if the beautifully painted shield leaning against a large tree. But Rhaegar knew the mystery knight could not have gotten far and first chose to peer around the tree upon which the shield rested.

Rhaegar had expected to find a green boy. But he was very mistaken. Instead, he found a young woman with long, brown hair curling down her back. Her silver eyes were wide and worried and she looked terrified. More curious, Rhaegar knew this woman. He had seen her on several occasions at the feasts and had caught her eyes on him as he played his harp.

It was Lady Lyanna of House Stark. Younger sister of Brandon and Eddard Stark. Daughter of Lord Rickard Stark. The beauty of the north that Rhaegar had heard drunken men talk about in both wistful and crude manners.

"It was you?" Rhaegar asked incredulously.

Lyanna did not respond. She only looked upon Rhaegar in fear, and Rhaegar need not imagine why. She was a lady and meant to be up in the stands with her family, not out on the jousting field pretending to be a knight. Trying to rein in his surprise, Rhaegar spoke to her again.

"Your secret is safe with me," he assured the woman.

Lyanna's lips twisted into a frown, her eyes searching him. Clearly, she wasn't sure if she should trust the prince. But Rhaegar would not tell a soul. Instead, he was fascinated by this woman. He wanted to know why she had impersonated a knight and entered a jousting competition under great risk. And he wanted to know how she had managed to defeat three knights.

"Are you alone?" Lyanna whispered.

"Yes," Rhaegar replied. "It was just I who was sent to find you. And I was not followed."

"Who sent you?"

"My father."

"The king!?" Lyanna nearly squeaked in fear.

Rhaegar could sense Lyanna's fear. He could see in the way she held herself just now that she felt trapped. Rhaegar took a calm step backwards, holding his hands up to show he had no intent on grabbing her and dragging her back to the competition.

"My father has become paranoid in his old age. But I have come simply to meet you."

"Meet me?"

"An unknown competitor of your size appears, bests three knights, just to have them teach their squires some manners? That certainly caught my attention," Rhaegar smiled. "So tell me Lady Lyanna, what could possess a lady of your standing to do such a thing?"

Lyanna stood rigid for a long moment before sighing. Gently, she lowered herself to the ground, rest her back against the tree, and began her tale.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

Greetings, readers! It seems like it's been forever since I posted a chapter. I have such little time to write and I have to split that time into two stories, this one and my new AryaXGendry story. My plan is to alternate stories. It can be hard, since this fandom is significantly smaller than AryaXGendry and I thrive on reviews and support. But I so do love this pairing and I will keep posting.

This was a difficult chapter for me to write because it is completely based on the story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, which is found in the books when Meera tells the tale to Bran. It's surrounded in theory, where some believe the Knight of the Laughing Tree is Howland Reed and others believe it is Lyanna. Take a guess at who I think it is. We also see Rhaegar and Lyanna finally meet! I was very torn on where to end the chapter. I would like to dedicate another chapter to the pair's first encounter, but I worried the next chapter then wouldn't be long enough or you readers wouldn't be satisfied with this chapter. So I kind of ended it where I did. I kind of feel like it's lacking but if I spent more time trying to work it out, it might be ages before you guys get another chapter. So I do hope this was satisfactory and if it's not, feel free to leave your annoyance in the reviews or in a message.

Things will move quicker now that the two have officially met. If you have any suggestions, I am more than willing to hear them. Thank you for reading! Much love.


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